Captain, My Captain
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: Renji just can't help wondering why Byakuya keeps on heaping useless assignments on him one after another. He then learns how much fun it is being Byakuya's lieutenant. Oneshot ByaRen RenBya


**Disclaimer**: Genius Kubo Tite owns Bleach.

Warning: This is pointless.

...

"I'm telling you, Hisagi-san, he's pushing me to the end of my patience. Do I look like his personal lackey?" The disgruntled Renji banters, matching his strides with the 9th Division lieutenant.

"Actually, Abarai, you _do_ look a good deal like his personal lackey; we _all_ would be mistaken as members of his household maintenance crew if we stood beside him in a crude exposure to public scrutiny for more than four minutes. What do you say is the average amount of time you spend with Captain Kuchiki every day? Eight hours? Shouldn't you be considering yourself lucky for not having been asked to adjust his sandal straps—"

"—what, you're joining the I-Love-Byakuya-Taichou fan club now?" the redhead solicits irritably in a fit of throwing disparaging gestures in the air.

"What I'm saying is, you can't really afford to complain in his face, much less refuse what he asks you to do. If I were you, Abarai, I'd clamp my mouth shut until I managed to finally do something about these grievances." Hisagi Shuuhei says knowingly with his sophisticated self-satisfied grin, which in turn only multiplies the redhead's annoyances.

"I have complained, for your information." Renji voices his indignant claim on defiance, of which he can give no honest account. Perhaps he's imagining that he has once gathered the audacity to disobey his captain. For that, it's safe to say his imagination has gone overboard.

"Really? And what form did this complaint assume?"

But Renji's voice is arrested by the sight of a Hell Butterfly fluttering its way toward their direction—his, to be precise. He instantly knows what it spells; Byakuya is calling. And so the butterfly dutifully announces: "Message to Lieutenant Abarai Renji. Kuchiki Byakuya, captain of the 6th Division, is requesting your presence." With that, the messenger vanishes on the spot, leaving the redhead staring blankly at a fixed imaginary point.

"I'm not going." He shoots an attempt at obstinacy.

"Renji, mate, do yourself a favor and stop giving me another reason to laugh at you. You know as much as I do that even if the effing sun collapsed on us now and the oceans swallowed us, you'd still be crawling your way back to your quarters and would afterwards find yourself sitting across your captain, docilely awaiting his dismissal."

It's true. So true in fact that Renji can now actually smell the scent of fresh parchment and hear the cacophony of scratching sounds that Byakuya's scribbling emits.

Like a bewitched wanderer who has completely lost touch with reality, Renji wheels around and starts to trace his steps back to his division quarters, where he has just emerged from some eighteen minutes earlier.

"Good luck!" Shuuhei shouts after him.

As the 6th Division lieutenant advances toward the infinitely familiar office door, he wonders what new form of boredom he will again be subjected to. He has grown accustomed to observing those trivial incidents belonging to everyday life, such as watching his captain pull his hair back, sip his tea, and scratch his forehead. In some ridiculously boring occasions, he even finds Byakuya's blinking unnaturally elegant. He must be going insane. For all he knows, this has to stop.

He knocks on the door.

"Come in."

Renji enters and, looking as though he knows not what course of action to choose, he asks, "You called for me, captain?"

"Yes. I want you to review those files right there." The captain answers, pointing to a very thin notepad on the coffee table.

_Even the 11th Division lieutenant can finish the work in a snap; it's that pathetically elementary_. Renji says to himself.

The lieutenant takes his post and sits on the visitor's chair. He slinks about, presiding over the insignificant report as he boasts inwardly about being capable of finishing the report in fifteen minutes. However, even given that such is the case, he always stays behind until his captain finishes, which normally takes about two full hours. He slyly darts his eyes at Byakuya, who is currently absorbed in scribbling some proposed bills, precisely the kind about which Renji refuses to give the slightest damn. In time, he finds himself eyeing the noble with careful assertion, while ceaseless appraisals intrude his private thoughts. _How arrestingly handsome this man is_, he broods. Just then, he is retracted from his absent-minded occupation when Byakuya lifts his eyes from the papers to greet his gaze. Renji scuffles to resume what's assigned to him, and from hereon starts to conceive the letters on the paper as meaningless shit. His eyes. however, have managed to catch the left corner of his captain's lips climb a few millimeters up his cheek. Moments like this never fail to stop the lieutenant from expressing his desire to resign from the pointless assignment and to lure him back to submission.

As what his stubborn custom dictates, Renji is lounging around his chair, feeling comfortably at home with the pieces of furniture, his legs slumped over the armrest of the single sofa, his left arm dangling lazily at his side and the other one resting at the backrest. He rereads the paper, unknowingly chewing on his pen. Unbeknownst to him, the captain has been secretly enjoying the disorganized manner by which he performs the simple task. Little does the vice-captain know of this, only because Byakuya's lack of fondness to small talk further authenticates his disguise.

Abarai Renji plainly can't take it anymore. He has been sending explicit and idiotically blatant signals that he is all ready to scram, but his captain is paying no heed, as such has always been the sad case. How many times has he been under the torment of this harassing silence anyway? He can't make out how his captain goes around enduring the troubles of hearing him yawn, sigh, cough and whistle, and catching him scratch his hair, forehead, and ears. Surely, all these actions outspokenly imply boredom and, sometimes, irritation too. Yet Byakuya would just keep his nose buried in the paper, ignoring the nuisance.

The redhead's mind is reeling in a hectic pace. He stands up, traipses across the room, and plants his towering figure in front of his captain's busy desk.

"I'm finished, sir." He announces, and his insides are riveting wretchedly.

"Okay."

He retains his position there, looking like an abandoned retard, unable to get past opening his mouth. And now courage flees from him as confidence conspires with it to desert him too. He can't say it. He can't disengage his lips from one another to utter a very simple: 'Can I go now?' As such, Byakuya gives notice to the stalled figure,

"Is there any particular reason why you're still standing there? Go back to your seat, please."

Renji swallows the lump in his throat. Whatever stupid appeals he has in mind will surely be of scarcely any consequence, now that he has succeeded in making a total moron of himself; he might as well seize the opportunity of sounding stupid in coherence with the stupid situation. He manages to say, "I was wondering if I could go now, sir."

The captain raises his head, his expression inscrutable. He speaks, "Do you have a more important appointment, Renji?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just that if I'm gonna tarry here longer doing absolutely nothing I may disturb your concentration."

"I may still have some orders for you. Sit down, please."

Renji doesn't budge. He knows what manner of redundancy the day has to offer: Byakuya will finish the report by himself, will call his personal butler if he needs something, and Renji will just sit there until his saliva runs dry. Come to think of it, never once has the captain asked him to do anything after the initial report editing. _Perhaps this is Byakuya's idea of fun; trying to murder me with boredom and awkwardness, _he thinks.

"Captain, you can send a Hell Butterfly if you'll need me, and you know I'll show up in a split second's notice."

The captain protracts his face above his eye level, giving the lieutenant an examining look. "Have you been missing out on a lot of Lieutenants' Night Out lately?"

He has just inquired the exact subject in Renji's thoughts. "I kinda promised my buds I'd catch on with them tonight." The lieutenant answers, and he knows that what he's doing is creating his own mess rather than fixing the one at present. Why he can't, for the life of him, lie to his superior he can not tell.

"Let me inform you, Renji, that I am your captain; not those seldom-sober fellow lieutenants, and you would do well to prioritize your duties by abiding by my orders rather than succumbing to drunken indulgences."

"But, sir—"

Renji is not able to phrase the rest of his vain entreaties, for Byakuya has abruptly roused from his chair and is now standing inches from where he is.

"Who's your captain?"

"I-I'm sorry, captain." Renji stammers bitterly.

"No, I ask you, who's your captain?" Byakuya flounders on, his tone of voice sounding vaguely similar to a carnal offering. As things are, the redhead can not help but wince, for what he knows not.

"Y-you, sir."

"Really, and whose captain am I?"

"M-mine, sir."

"Yours indeed?" The captain asks in sheer fascination, looming closer to the younger man, who can hardly contort himself to the appropriate posture.

"Y-yes, sir."

"I'm _yours_ then?" Byakuya inquires with heavy emphasis on the possessive term.

"…" Renji does not answer. He is scarcely used to double-meanings, and, even as he decides to take the question in the literal and grammatical sense, it will still point out to something odd and malicious.

"Well?"

The lieutenant is blushing like crazy. Apart from that, his astounded mouth seems to be forever gaping and his eyes are as round as a pair of full moons. It is, indeed, a rare moment of familiarity and uncertainty, but, more importantly, it doesn't make sense at all.

"A-are you, sir?" he asks; 'nervously' wouldn't have done it justice. He seems utterly scared at the moment, because if Byakuya isn't being scary then he doesn't know what fear is.

"If you want me to, I'm yours."

All the meaning in the world dissolves at this moment. Time stops and logic draws its last breath. _What does Byakuya think he's doing_? Renji raves. Of course he knows what the captain is doing; he's being terrifyingly seductive. So, having determined neither of them is in no way disposed to exercise restraint, he might as well ask…

"Won't you ask whose vice-captain am I?"

"Whose vice-captain are you, Renji Abarai?"

"Yours, Kuchicki Byakuya."

"Is that so? Are you _min_e?"

There's a smile, then a kiss.

"Yeah, and no one else's."

**END**


End file.
